Not Your Average Girl . . .

Hermione Granger stuck her tongue between her teeth as she scribbled furiously to put the finishing touches on her drawing. Now, which color blue should the sky be . . .?

"Why, Miss Granger, that is lovely!"

Hermione gave her Sunday School teacher a withering look. "It's not finished yet," she said, as if it was obvious. Miss Benton simply smiled at her accommodatingly and let her scribble. Hermione pushed her frizzy hair out of her face and sat back to survey her work. It was a picture of Jesus, the man they always showed on the cross, flying through the sky. Which was just the right color blue.

"All right, everyone, let's finish up our drawings, and then we'll share!"

Hermione caught her neighbor leaning over to look at her picture and flipped it wrong-side-up indignantly. "Do your own," she said, her nose in the air.

"It's just a picture," said Emma, the little girl in long, straight blonde pigtails. Hermione resisted the urge to grab hold of one of them and tug. Instead, she turned to face Miss Benton, sitting up straight with her hands folded in her lap. However, this left her drawing unguarded, and before Miss Benton could ask for volunteers, she heard the whip of paper fluttering through the air followed by shrill giggles. Hermione's eyes went wide and she whirled around to see Emma and her friends Tiffany and Imogen gathered around something. Her drawing was gone.

Hermione pushed her hair out of her face and stood up abruptly. "That's mine," she pointed out. Emma looked up at her and giggled. Hermione couldn't abide giggling.

"Ask nicely if you want it back," she said in sing-song. Hermione crossed her arms over her chest and leaned on her hip.

"Give me back my drawing, if you please," she said acidly. Emma looked contemplative, then giggled again.

"Nope," she said. Hermione stuck her hands on her hips.

"Give me my drawing back!" she hissed.

"Nope, nope, nope! Finder keeper!"

Another piercing round of giggling was the final straw. Hermione whipped around, her eyes wide. She stamped her foot and her hand shot high into the air. Miss Benton looked at her and smiled obligingly.

"Yes, Miss Granger?" she asked.

"Emma Elaine Patton took my drawing," she said crossly.

"Did not," said Emma, standing up. "She gave it to me."

Hermione turned and glared at Emma. "She's a liar!"

"Now, now, Miss Granger, we don't just accuse people of being liars. Miss Patton, give Miss Granger her drawing back, and you can be first in the show-and-tell."

Emma handed the drawing back to Hermione with a smug look on her face. Hermione always loved to be first. Sulkily, she plopped back down in her chair and glared at Emma as she pranced up to the front.

"My picture is of Mr. John the Tappist, who paptized Jesus."

Miss Benton gave her encouraging smile. Hermione wanted all of Emma's straight blonde hair to fall out. She touched her own bushy brown curls self-consciously. Just because Emma was the vicar's pretty daughter she always got special treatment.

"That's a very nice drawing, Miss Patton."

Emma's smug grin intensified as she approached Hermione, who sunk lower in her chair and scowled. At her fourth birthday party last year, her mother had invited all of the girls from their church to have a fancy tea to celebrate. Emma's mother had bought a beautiful porcelain doll for her to give to Hermione. But when Hermione unwrapped it, Emma grabbed hold and claimed her mother bought the wrong gift. Hermione would have preferred a simple book or some coloring pencils, but the doll was hers, and Emma had selfishly taken it. She always tried to take everything of Hermione's.

Miss Benton was smiling at her, which meant it must be her turn. Hermione stood and shuffled to the front, carrying her drawing close to her body. Slowly, she turned it around for everyone to see.

"This is a picture of Jesus flying through the air," she said matter-of-factly. A couple of the other students giggled. Hermione scowled. "Why is it funny?"

"Because Jesus doesn't fly," said Imogen.

"Well, if Jesus could walk on water, why couldn't he fly?" retorted Hermione.

"That's because only witches fly, and Jesus wasn't a witch!" shouted Tiffany.

"Jesus was all-powerful, why couldn't he fly?" Hermione demanded, appealing to Miss Benton. The teacher's usual warm smile faltered slightly.

"Miss Benton, Hermione turned Jesus into a witch!" said Emma. A blush crept up Hermione's cheeks. "She should be punished!"

Hermione looked up at Miss Benton. "I didn't turn him into a witch," she said firmly. Miss Benton gently took the drawing out of her hands.

"Now, Miss Patton, we won't punish Miss Granger for being creative. But Miss Granger," she said more gravely, "Miss Patton is right about one thing. We don't draw Jesus flying, unless it is during his ascension into Heaven. It just isn't done. If you want another drawing, you can start over."

Hermione watched in horror as her precious drawing was crunched up into a ball and thrown into the rubbish bin. Silently, she went to sit down again, biting back tears amidst a new chorus of giggles.

"'My-knee got in trouble, 'My-knee got in trouble!" Emma sang out behind her. Hermione's eyes stung and she stared resolutely at the floor.

"I did not get in trouble," she mumbled. Emma giggled yet again.

"Oh, 'My-knee, and we were going to invite you over for tea after church. Now you can't come because you're a trouble-maker . . ."

Hermione bit the inside of her lip. "I wouldn't come to tea with you if you were the last human being on the planet, Emma Elaine Patton!" she seethed. "And the name is Hermione."

"Uh-oh, 'My-knee's angry!"

Hermione felt the burning behind her eyes grow hotter as Emma began her sing-song again. Suddenly there was a similar feeling in her abdomen. Before she even knew what was happening, Emma abruptly shrieked.

"MISS BENTON, MISS BENTON!!" she sobbed shrilly. "MISS BENTON, MISS BENTON!"

"What is it, Em--?"

Miss Benton let out an unholy scream at what she saw. Hermione turned back to see Emma standing in a pile of her own hair, fistfuls gathered in her hands, eyes squeezed shut, screeching at the top of her lungs. Her whole head was bald. Hermione's mouth fell open.

Emma continued to scream and cry, Miss Benton proceeded to have no earthly idea what to do, and general pandemonium broke out in the class. But Hermione simply sat there, staring at Emma Elaine Patton's bald head, even as the shrieking girl was carried from the room to be taken to hospital. It couldn't be possible.

She had wished it. And it had come true.

Hermione looked down at the pile of blonde pigtails on the floor, then stared at her own hands. What had happened? It couldn't be possible. How could someone wish something, then have it come true?

It simply wasn't possible.

"Hermione."

The voice at the door was her father's, and immediately Hermione jumped up and ran to him. She flung herself at his legs.

"Daddy, I didn't do it," she said. "It wasn't me."

Dr. Granger patted her head awkwardly and reached down to lift her up. "I know that. Why do you think people blame you?"

"Because I wished it and it happened," Hermione whispered. Her father looked at her strangely for a moment, then tapped her on the nose and smiled.

"What an imagination my Hermione has!" he said. "Now, let's go find Mummy and go home, shall we?" Hermione nodded. Daddy was right; it was only her imagination.

But she remembered how hot her eyes had felt, and how hard she had wished it. Then her stomach had gotten even hotter than her eyes, and suddenly . . .

Imagination. Daddy's Hermione has quite an imagination.